A Walk in My Shoes
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: Hiccup has had it pretty rough in his short life. Raised in poverty, fed through borrowed money...when his parents suddenly pass, he is left with a huge debt to pay and no way to pay it. Meeting a winter spirit who seems to have it all ends with the two making a dangerous trade-off...of lives. Now the two must fix each other's problems, or end up stuck as the other for good. AU.
1. Welcome to My Life

_A Walk in My Shoes_

**A/N: Okay! Okay! Soooo, I've been on a major fairy tale kick lately and I had to do a prince and the pauper thing for Jack and Hiccup. Also, I'm doing Camp Nano, so this might get put on the back burner. Warning.**

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The work isn't just exhausting, it's repetitive and pointless. I've been working on this same stupid sword for at least four hours and every time Gobber comes back in to check on me and looks over the sword, he just shakes his head and tells me I can do better.

He always does this, tries to bait me into snapping back as an excuse to weigh me down with extra work. But this time, I won't snap. Maybe this time, I can get done early enough to actually get some real rest in. I'm running on about three hours right now, which is probably why I'm taking so long on this stupid sword. I'm so tired I can barely focus. All I want to do is crawl in bed, but I won't get a wink of sleep until the sword is perfect. At least in Gobber's eyes.

I try to stifle a yawn as I hear voices from outside my window, a few people walking past. More people to pick up their weapons, I'll bet.

I notice one of the people casts a shadow that doesn't fade, and I'm just about to glance up and see who it is when I hear the voice. "Hey, look!"

I keep my eyes glued to my work, feeling my face beginning to flush beet red.

"It's the poor kid!" Snotlout continues, and by this time, I'm sure he's pointing at me. I can even hear the laughter in his voice. "Are you still paying off your debts, or what?"

I used to snap at him to leave me alone, but I've begun to realize that just makes him worse. My father always taught me to fight back, but my mother said that a bully can't get to you if you don't let them. Ignoring them is the key, she always said.

Thinking of my parents makes a lump come into my throat. I get it, I get that they died years ago, but I can't help choking up a little whenever I think of them. The way I live now – I wonder if it would appall them, or make them proud that I'm working so hard. Not to mention making a name for myself, I mentally add as Snotlout leans in through the window and growls, "Useless, I'm talking to you."

Yeah. That's my nickname. Hiccup the Useless.

"And I'm ignoring you," I respond, resisting the urge to swing the hammer I'm holding with all my strength – at his head. "Funny how these things don't really mix, huh?"

He makes a slightly offended noise, before he's right back on track. "You're so pathetic," he jeers. "How many more years is Gobber gonna keep you working here, _poor kid_?"

I scowl down at my work. Yes, I have been working to pay off my debt for awhile, but I've already paid off more than half. I'll be free soon. "That's none of your business," I tell Snotlout, dropping all weapons to ease the temptation.

"Step it up, Hiccup!" Gobber yells as he comes striding back into the room, polishing a spear as he talks. "Those thirty-seven years aren't going to pass themselves!"

I roll my eyes. "Very funny. You know you'll miss me when I'm gone next year," I add in a low voice. I don't want Snotlout to know when I'm leaving. It'd be just like him to find a way to mess that up.

"Next…next year?" Gobber's brow knits.

"By next year, I should have paid off all my debt," I respond, but when his silence is my only answer, I turn to face him. I don't like the pitying look he's giving me. "Right?"

"Oh…Hiccup…" His smile fades slightly. "You're not…you're…you're not leaving next year."

"What do you mean? Of course I am!"

"You're…lad, you're not counting interest."

"Wha…interest? I mean…"

"Hiccup, you're not leaving next year," Gobber repeats sadly. "You're not leaving in the next three years. You've still got a lot to pay."

"What are you…?" I suddenly feel my heart tumbling down from its temporary resting point on cloud nine. The gods love to mess with me too much to let it reside there permanently. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know what interest means," Gobber replies gently.

There's a moment in which I try not to look at him to hide how upset I am, and he doesn't speak, letting me collect myself.

And then laughter breaks through the silence. Mean laughter. Jeering laughter. "Interest?" Snotlout mimics in a high falsetto. "I guess you're regretting your greedy parents now, huh? You really are hopeless, Hiccup!"

"My parents were not greedy!" I'm instantly facing him, so fast the sword clatters to the ground. I want to throw the stupid thing at him. Maybe it'll cut off his mouth. "They couldn't afford to care for me!"

"I almost forgot about that part," Snotlout shrugs, looking amused. "I guess having you was their mistake, huh?"

I feel something building in me – anger, maybe, or the urge to fight back, the way Dad always taught me to. Before I know what I'm doing, my hands are curled into fists and I'm seconds away from throwing a punch.

"That's enough, Snotlout!" Gobber snaps roughly. "Go on, you get off to training! You have no reason to hang around here!"

The door whips open suddenly and the three of us turn to look. As if this day couldn't get any worse, it's Astrid Hofferson walking through the door, swinging her hips with every step she takes, her skirt fanning out around her long legs. "Gobber?" she calls, placing a hand on her hip and leaning to the side for balance. "Is my axe ready?"

"Yeah, it's here, lassie, hold on…" As Gobber shuffles out of the room to retrieve the weapon, Astrid blows out a breath and leans against the wall. For a moment, both Snotlout and I stare at her, and then his eyes flick over to me. A grin spreads across his face after a second.

"What?" I ask, reaching down to pick up the sword.

"Don't tell me."

"Don't tell you what?" I demand, my fingers finding the hilt. I pick the blade back up and set it down on the desk, rolling up my sleeves to free my hands better. Honestly, I'm only half-paying attention to whatever Snotlout has to say.

"She's never gonna go for Hiccup the Useless."

My face flushes again. "Uh, luckily, I don't _want_ her to."

"Snotlout!" Gobber calls as he walks back into the room. "Are you here to pick up anything? Weapons, anything like that?"

"No," my cousin admits, standing up a little straighter when Gobber addresses him, although that could also be because Astrid looks our way at the same time. The only way she looks at me is if there's somebody infinitely more interesting beside me.

"Then get out of here before I hit you over the head with this spear," Gobber replies simply, handing Astrid her axe and shooing her out the door. As Snotlout, in a state of high offense, departs from the forge as well, I can't help but laugh a little at Gobber's parting words, before his others come back to me.

_Interest? How am I going to pay off that? _

Yep. Welcome to my life. It freaking _sucks_.


	2. Jokul Frosti

_A Walk in My Shoes_

**A/N: This chapter is actually changed slightly from the original first draft, because in the original, Jack had a few...choice words at the beginning. I'm...uh, really sorry about that, and then I decided I wanted to keep this as G as I possibly could, so there will be no foul language or slash :) I hope you guys understand, because I rarely write kid-friendly stuff and I want to do it. **

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It's the same thing every time.

Every single freaking time. So why am I not used to it? The answer is because I'm stupid. I'm stupid is what I am. What am I good for, anyway? Why did I rise up out of that lake instead of drowning in it like a normal person would? I keep waiting for an explanation, a reason behind everything. What was I doing there that night on the lake? Why was I there? What was I meant to do? And what…what am I doing wrong?

What about me is so terrible that I deserve to be punished this way? I'm trying to get control of my emotions, to stop this stupid blizzard, but I can't push the feelings down anymore, they just keep coming. The negative thoughts that have plagued me ever since that first boy that ever walked through me are coming back with a vengeance. How useless am I? I can't do anything right.

I mean, sure, that was a great snowball fight I just had with those kids, but what's the point of it, in the end? They just walked right through me, like every kid does. I hate myself for being stupid, for getting my hopes up even though it's been this way for three hundred freaking years.

The moon is nowhere in sight right now, just the bleak sun shining weakly through a canopy of gray clouds. But I'm not interested in seeing the sun. The sun isn't responsible for my problems right now; the moon is.

I stare up into the howling blizzard, blinking my eyes against the harsh wind. Even though the cold has no effect on me, the wind still makes my eyes water.

I can hear noises from the little village I've retreated to up north, where, in their type of weather, one heavy blizzard out of thousands won't be anything to remark upon. I instantly fly lower to the ground, perching high up in the branches of a sad, sagging little oak tree that stands right beside a little wooden building.

A red-haired boy suddenly pushes the door to the building open, hauling an armload of weapons, stumbling under their weight. I can see a large blonde man who's clearly more capable of carrying them still in the building and I scowl when the man begins to talk. "And when you're done with that, Hiccup, you need to—

"I know, Gobber!" The boy whose name is apparently Hiccup shouts back, red-faced and breathless.

My anger with the man named Gobber breaks for just a second and I allow myself a snicker. No, my spirits aren't rising, but I'm trying to pretend they are. "Hiccup? Wow, what kind of name is _that_?"

"Leave me alone," he mumbles, readjusting his grip on the weapons and beginning to stalk away.

My grin quickly fades. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I said leave me alone!" he turns to face me, and I can see every freckle on his face, every line from years of little rest, hard work and sorrow. "Snotlout and the others are bad enough! I don't need some…weird…hippie…thing to be laughing about my name now, too! You all know what it means!"

I completely disregard the fact that he has just called me a weird hippie. He can see me, and that's all I care about. "Are you speaking to me?" I'm afraid that I might cry. I've thought about this moment for a long time, fantasized about it, imagined it. Now it's finally real, it's here, and yet I don't dare believe it.

"See any other freakishly dressed people here?" he snaps, but his voice barely stays steady; he sounds like he's about to break down crying any second. "Leave me alone!" An axe tumbles out of his arms, but he kneels down and slowly picks it up again, although he does appear to be considering the merits of just leaving it.

"You can see me?" I'm by his side an instant, practically jumping up and down like an excited child at Christmastime. "You can really see me?"

"How couldn't I?" he demands. "You're right in front of me." He gives me a kind of a weird look and adds under his breath, "Freak of nature."

"No, no, you don't understand!" Although the blizzard is calming, the snow appears to be somehow be picking up from all my excitement. "You can see me, I…I…" I'm beaming, but I think the tears might have spilled over because he also looks concerned about me as well as annoyed. Reaching up to touch my cheeks, I realize that yes, that is what happened.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice changes to a more compassionate tone. "Maybe you should…sit down or something."

"No…no, I'm fine," my own voice is suddenly a lot quieter. I'm terrified that if I speak too loudly, I'll shatter this beautiful illusion. Or maybe I'll wake up in two seconds. I give myself a quick pinch and inwardly wince. This is no dream.

"Maybe you should come in for a minute," Hiccup whispers, discarding the weapons immediately and taking my arm.

I am not used to physical contact. The sensation is wonderful. His fingers are warm. His fingers are strong. He silently tells me I'm alright. That this is real. He tells me so much with just a simple touch. It makes me want to hug him so badly, not because I'm having romantic thoughts or anything like that, but because I long for him to touch me with more than just a hand. I long to feel somebody's arms around me. But he already thinks I'm a weird hippie, and I'm eager not to encourage this illusion.

He opens the door to the forge and the man, Gobber I think, raises a thick blonde eyebrow. "Finished already? You took your time," he sniffs, but I think he's joking.

Hiccup gives him a tired smile. "No, I just…I think this guy might be having some issues. Can he rest in here for a bit while I do my stuff?"

Gobber's half-smile vanishes. It doesn't fade all slow, it just drops completely off his face, there one instant and gone the next. "What guy?"

"This…this guy standing beside me…what's your name? If you don't answer, I'm calling you Snowball because of the hair."

Vaguely, I register that Hiccup is asking me for my name. I'm so busy staring, fascinated, at his fingers gripping my arm that I've forgotten myself. I glance up and see Gobber, seeing right through me, and Hiccup waiting impatiently for my answer. "He can't see me," I murmur in the boy's ear. "Don't waste your breath."

"Wait, what did you just say?" Hiccup reels back in shock, letting go of my arm. I feel an odd sense of loss the moment I register the absence of his warm fingers. "What do you…what do you mean?" he asks weakly, and this time, he looks like the one who ought to sit down.

"Lad…" Gobber hobbles over to Hiccup uncertainly, and I realize that the man's got one real foot and one prosthetic. He puts a hand on the boy's forehead. "Maybe you're tired," he suggests kindly. "Maybe you're just working yourself too hard—

"Gobber." Hiccup bats the man's hand away and my gut twists in something like envy. If that had been me, I would have prolonged the feeling of physical touch for as long as I could.

"I'm not sick." The boy folds his arms across his chest but quickly breaks the stance to gesture to me. "He's right here! Can't you see him?" He grabs me by the sleeve, avoiding my ice-cold wrist this time and shoves me in front of him. "He's right here!"

"Lad, there's nothing there," Gobber replies, and Hiccup turns a burning green gaze on me.

"What the…what is going on?" he demands of me, but I shrug.

"A lot of people can't see me," I respond simply. "You can, but a lot of people can't, so—

"What are you?" he interrupts, looking a little horrified.

I consider for a moment. A boy who rose from a frozen lake. A boy who is walked through. A boy who, before today, had never had the pleasure of being touched. A boy who nobody believes in. I bypass these rather emo answers and head for the most direct, informative one. "Winter spirit."

"Frost giant?" he draws back even farther, his eyes going wide as dinner plates.

"_Winter spirit_!" I repeat, annoyed but also slightly freaked out that he looks so frightened. "What in the world is a frost giant?"

"Who's a frost giant?" Gobber interjects suddenly, and Hiccup points to me, sputtering.

"I'm a winter spirit!" I'm ready to clock this boy on the head, which I can't believe. I thought for sure if he could see me, then things would have to get better. But so far, they're taking a turn from bad to worse. "My name is Jack Frost—

But this just terrifies the poor boy even more, because he lets out a shout now. "JOKUL FROSTI!"

"I don't even _know_ Jokul Frosti!" I tell him, both scared witless and furious with him for messing this up. "Who is that?"

"You're him!" He keeps telling me, but finally, I start to see that we're going nowhere and I lose it.

The howling wind begins to pick up outside, scratching angrily at the windows. "Look, I don't know who Jokul Frosti is, or why being a winter spirit is such a bad thing, but I'm not out to hurt you, okay!"

This seems to jar him for a moment.

"Maybe you should go to Gothi," Gobber suggests, earning a glare from the both of us.

"I'm not hallucin—oh, this is so stupid!" Hiccup cries, grabbing my arm again and physically dragging me outside this time. Gobber watches us from the window of the forge, but Hiccup seems unaware of him.

"Now," he folds his arms, "I expect an explanation."

I want to tell him it's rather freaking gutsy of him to demand one from me like that, but I bite my tongue. "I don't know, it seems you'd rather be accusing me of being some kind of frost…frosty…Jakel…thing…"

"Jokul Frosti!" he snaps, his cheeks turning a little red, highlighting his freckles. "Now are you him or are you not him?"

"Uh…" I glance once back at Gobber and give a little shrug, getting ready to explain.


	3. I Wish I Were You

_A Walk in My Shoes_

**A/N: ****SURPRISE**

**Yes, this is the surprise. Updating all of my eighteen in-progress fics at once. It was pretty crazy, but I did it, and it's here, and good day to you all! I had tons of fun doing this, so I hope you guys have tons of fun reading this!**

**Anyway, I'm really starting to like this fic! Things are picking up! EEK :D Fun ensuessss as well as angst and feels and Jack/Hiccup friendship! (I just love their friendship, like oh my gosh, they'd be awesome xD Jack would tease him quite a bit, though xD) **

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I really wish that I hadn't freaked out so badly upon hearing the name Jokul Frosti, because, upon closer inspection, he really doesn't look anything like a frost giant. Or at least, not like anything I imagined a frost giant would be. And he really doesn't seem to know what they are, either.

"Number one," he swings his long wooden staff over one shoulder, pacing up and down in front of me. Wherever he steps on the grass, more white powder covers the emerging green blades, but the blizzard around us is definitely calming. "I'm not a frost giant. I don't even know what one is. I'm a winter spirit."

"What's the difference?" I ask distrustfully.

He frowns, evidently thinking this over. "No idea. I've never met a frost giant, so I can't really give you educated explanations. My best guess is that, judging by your reaction, frost giants are evil and they kill people with their power."

"You should have seen the blizzard you just created," I snap, folding my arms over my chest.

"Don't be unfair," he scowls a little. "That blizzard sprang up solely around the one building and that was only because I was having trouble getting a grip on my emotions. I'm much better at keeping my season safe than that, at least on a normal day."

"What about all of the blizzards Berk normally gets?"

"Have they ever killed people?"

I consider this for a second, trying to recall all the stories Gobber told me about the Blizzard of Olaf. "Okay, well, I suppose that the Blizzard of Olaf kind of did everyone a favor, seeing as it buried Mildew up to his neck in snow and ice for a week before we could dig him fully out…"

The winter spirit looks as if he doesn't even want to know what I mean, but I read the confusion in his blue eyes, even if he doesn't ask. He plays with his staff for a minute or two as an awkward silence falls between us. "Well, the main point is, I'm not murderous," he says at last, though he avoids my eye as he talks. "And I don't even _know_ Jokul Frosti, so." He folds his arms over his chest, his staff still clenched tight in one hand, as though this settles it.

"Then why do you hate our island so much?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Our seasons aren't spring, summer, autumn, winter. We have a month where everything thaws, and then it's mild winter, true winter and devastating winter. If you're really not Jokul Frosti, why do you give us so much snow and ice?"

"Look, kid, that's probably Mother Nature," the winter spirit shrugs, unperturbed by this news. "I mean, I've visited this island before, and given you guys some pretty strong snowstorms, but it's never been anything as bad as you're talking. Considering you live up north, Mother Nature is probably just doing her job."

"Well, tell 'Mother Nature' that she should stop," I reply sourly, putting the name in quotation marks.

He looks offended. "You know, Mother Nature is a real person," he informs me loftily. "And you try to tell her she should stop – see how she takes it. It's her job. It's like asking Cupid to put down his bow for one Valentine's Day – he can't, it's his job."

"Wait, Cupid?" I'm quickly starting to see that I will never understand this boy.

"Yes," he huffs, a little annoyed now.

"Like, the golden bow and arrow make people fall in love Cupid?" I make a hand motion like I'm drawing back the string of a bow and shooting, and the winter spirit chuckles and nods.

"He's _real_?"

"_Yes_," The winter spirit repeats impatiently.

"So, let me see if I got this straight – apparently, there's a mother of nature who sends us all the snow, even though _you're_ the winter spirit who might be a frost giant and it's _your_ job to mess around with the snow. And then there's the half-naked cherub who wears only a toga and is always making people fall in love?"

"Okay, Mother Nature is not stealing my job and I'm not letting her," he replies, looking definitely affronted now. "What I mean is, Mother Nature, if there's a seasonal spirit missing from a certain place where their season should be, Mother Nature takes over for them. So, while my home should have been made up here, in the north with all the mountains, I chose somewhere a bit farther south, the lake where I was born, so she—

"You were _born_ on a _lake_?"

"Weeeeelllll," the boy drags out the word as he hesitantly shakes his head. "Born _under_ the lake, more like. It was all frozen over now, so I awoke beneath the ice."

I stare at him for a long second, but for the life of me, I cannot imagine a baby, even a winter spirit baby, surviving such conditions. "Where was your mother? Your father? Why weren't they there?"

The pale face darkens and the blue eyes flash. But a second later, these signs of anger and pain are gone again, and the winter spirit hitches a smile back upon his face. "Oh! Like, literally born beneath a lake, no – when I awoke beneath the ice, I was the same age I am now. I haven't changed a bit." His deep voice turns unexpectedly bitter. "Not in three hundred years."

"Wait, what?" I squeak. "You're _three hundred years old_?"

"Well, don't look at me like that! Cupid and Mother Nature are much older than I am, they're like, thirty thousand! And Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, they're almost one hundred thousand, I think! And Sandman has got to be at least a million, I think he's the oldest spirit ever—

"Santa Claus?" My head and my world are both spinning now as I try to take in all this new information. "Easter Bunny? Sandman?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, those are the other spirits out there. Some of them are cool, like Mother Nature, she's at least nice whenever our paths cross but most of them aren't. I've never even met Santa, but his workshop has been in the Pole for as long as I can remember. And the Easter Bunny is a piece of w—

"Who are all these people?"

For a moment, his mouth drops open and he stares at me, his blue eyes widening. "Don't tell me you don't believe in them?"

"I sort of remember something about a gigantic rabbit, but my father always told me that that was just a fairy tale, so that doesn't matter, I never thought about him much. But Santa Claus? Sandman?"

"The Tooth Fairy?"

"The what?"

"The Tooth Fairy?" The winter spirit repeats. "Have you ever heard of her?"

I shake my head no.

He bites his lip, but not like he's thinking – more like he's concealing a grin.

"What's so funny?" I snap.

"It's…it's not anything you'd find interesting."

"What is it, then?"

"One of the only people in the world who can see me, and you don't believe in any of the other childhood legends? Not a one?"

"I've never heard of them, except the Easter Bunny," I respond dismissively. "And the bunny doesn't sound very nice anyway – from what I remember of the story my mother told me, he was off his rocker and tried to kill everyone else in the story."

The winter spirit's mischievous grin widens. "Oh, Bunny would love that if he could hear it."

"Did he ever try to kill people?"

"Well, I don't think so, but his morals are very much in doubt," he shrugs, swinging the staff back over his shoulder as if a gigantic, murderous bunny is all in a day's work. "So it wouldn't surprise me if he had."

"And wait, what was that part about the only people in the world who can see you? Is that why Gobber can't see you?"

He nods. "Not a lot of people can, it's okay."

I don't speak for several long minutes, trying to take this all in, everything about Easter bunnies and Santa Clauses and Tooth fairies… I sink to the ground, feeling the ice and snow seeping into my tunic and dampening my hands, but I'm not really feeling it. "Who is Santa Claus?" I finally manage to rasp out. "Who's the Tooth Fairy and…and the Sandman, I mean, who are all these people?"

"Okay, well…" Jack keeps a tight hold on his staff as he kneels down next to me. The closer he is, the colder I feel. I shiver slightly, drawing back, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Santa Claus – I can't believe I have to explain this to you, sorry – Santa Claus is an old, fat man in a red suit – from what I've heard, I mean, I've never even seen him, but I know he's there – and he travels all over the world every Christmas Eve in his bright red sleigh, pulled by his reindeer. They travel all over the world on the night of Christmas Eve and he goes down the chimneys and takes out his huge red sack and sticks presents for all the good kids beneath the Christmas tree. But for the kids on the naughty list, he leaves only coal."

"Wait – what?"

"Santa Claus, every Ch—

"No, I got everything about Santa – but what's Christmas?"

For a single moment, he stares at me, his eyes wide. "You don't know what Christmas is?"

I shake my head hesitantly, and as he launches into his explanation, I brighten. "That sounds like Snoggletog!"

"What?"

"Not all islands celebrate it, so maybe yours celebrates Christmas or whatever, but we have a holiday just like that, in winter, too! Only nobody as far-fetched as Santa brings us presents, and certainly not under a tree – Odin just plunks them down in our helmet."

"Odin?" Jack's brows knit.

"Odin, the All-Father."

"All-Father?"

"He's the father of all the gods. Not the literal father, mind you – he just watches over them all, keeps a close eye on them…and he's certainly the most powerful."

"Aaaaand that's not far-fetched?" Jack's voice is deeply sarcastic, and I scowl at him.

"My father told me all this. We Vikings know these things." I run my fingers through my hair before spying the weapons still strewn about on the frozen ground. "Okay, well, I think you've sufficiently overloaded my brain for the day – and it's very small, I'll give you that – so I'd better get back to work, Gobber will kill me if I don't leave soon." I steal another quick glance at the strange white-haired boy, unsure how much to believe. What if he's making all this stuff up, about Santa Claus and Christmas, just to yank on my chain?

"I'll help!" He says brightly, leaping to his feet and grabbing up a sizable stack of weapons. "This whole pile is probably too heavy for you, anyway."

This simple gesture is what shocks me most of all. Nobody has ever offered me help before. When they see me struggling, they do nothing but add to that workload. Nobody in the village has ever cared for me, except my mother and my father, and they're gone now. They've been gone for three years, yet their memory still brings a lump to my throat. And that same, familiar lump comes now, when I realize Jack is truly helping me. And maybe it's stupid, but this, above all, cements my belief in him. He is telling the truth, and he's standing in front of me, and he's smiling at me and he's offering to help me.

I pick up the few weapons he couldn't fit into his arms off the ground, noting how much colder they've grown. I struggle to think up something good to say as we start off down the street. "Thanks," I whisper. "For, you know…for helping me and everything."

"Oh, no problem," Jack replies easily, adjusting one of the weapons in his arms. "Why can't Gobber carry these?"

"He could," I admit with a sigh, shrugging it off. "But I take every bit of extra work I can get. Anyway, so, you explained about Santa Claus, but what about the Tooth Fairy? What does she do?"

The next explanation is even more unbelievable, if that's possible, and yet I can't help it; I believe this one, too. Of course, this one is a bit easier to believe, seeing as I once lost a baby tooth, forgot to throw it away and woke up the next morning with a coin in its place. Back when money wasn't a constant, pressing problem.

He then launches into his story about Sandman, and that one's probably the most believable, because my mother did tell me about a being like that once.

"And they're just there?" I raise my eyebrows at him curiously. "They just _exist_? Can I meet them sometime?"

"Well…you can't meet Santa, no, not with my help, at least. Every time the yetis see me even getting close to the workshop, they start getting a bit violent, so…and I've never tried to get into the Tooth Fairy's place before, but I think it's near the Equator…and then, me and Bunny aren't exactly on stellar terms…but I can introduce you to Sandman!" he beams happily. "Sandman likes me – well, not very much, but he's likely to turn up if I ask him to, unlike everybody else."

"Can the others see you?" I ask, interested.

"Yes," he huffs. "They can see me, they just don't want to talk to me. They don't think I'm worth their time." He shrugs. "Well, that's not fair, I mean, Santa is a pretty busy guy, considering…and he doesn't even know I'm trying to break in, the yetis stop me before I can." Jack sighs a little. "But I can introduce you to Sandy, no problem."

Listening to him talk, I feel an odd emotion, something not unlike envy. He acts like being invisible is really hard, but it honestly doesn't sound that bad. I mean, he has the Sandman for a friend, and everybody else ignores him. They don't tease him. They don't call him an endless barrage of cruel nicknames. They just ignore him. They don't make fun of him.

"I wish I was a winter spirit," I mumble without thinking.

"Do you?" Jack seems amused by this. "Why?"

"Because! Because then, I could be invisible. Everybody would just ignore me."

"Your life must be pretty awful if you'd rather be ignored." He makes a face.

"Not awful," I admit reluctantly. "I'd just rather not be made fun of every time I show my face outside the forge. I get that I'm not the toughest Viking around, but do they have to rub it in?"

"At least when they're insulting you, they're speaking to you," Jack sighs.

We exchange glances and for a moment, there's silence.

"I wish I were you."


	4. Spitting Image

_**A Walk in My Shoes**_

**A/N: Hi, everyone! Here's the newest chapter! I have a bit of a headache and my knees hurt...please R and R :D **

* * *

Although it's midwinter, and I should leave and go deliver ice and snow to the rest of the world, the sight of Hiccup looking right at me, speaking to me, asking me questions and answering mine, keeps me locked in place. The wind ruffles my hair softly, as if it's trying to pull me back up in the air and get me back to my lake.

"I'll go later, okay?" I mumble in the direction of the sky, hoping Hiccup isn't hearing me. He seemed so thoroughly convinced that I was crazy just ten minutes ago, and I don't want to reinforce this.

He does give me a rather odd look, but luckily, we're coming right up to a house to deliver a weapon, so he doesn't have long to dwell on it, either. "I think you have the mace I need," he mutters to himself, searching his own pile.

"Is it this one?" I hold out the first one that I grab, shifting my own pile of weapons so I can hold it single-handedly.

"Yes, thank you," Hiccup takes it from my hands and, shivering slightly and pulling his vest tighter around himself, he walks up the steps, knocks on the door and waits, listening to the pounding footsteps on the other side.

When the door opens roughly, a scowling woman stands on the other side, regarding Hiccup with evident disdain.

"I have a mace here for—

"Yes, I know," she interrupts him snappishly. "My husband, he's been talking about getting it repaired for weeks." And, snatching it out of his hand without so much as a thank you, she slams the door shut after him. "Off you go."

"What a pleasant woman," I remark sarcastically, adjusting my grip on the weapons again; they keep threatening to slip through my arms.

Hiccup shrugs. "That was kind for Deedee. She's not very sociable. Add the fact that it's me, delivering her husband's mace, and well…"

"What's wrong with it being you?" I frown, adjusting the weapons again as an axe goes skidding out of my arms.

Alarmed, Hiccup doesn't answer my question until he has chased the axe down and returned it safely to his own pile. "Well, nobody in the village really likes me," he admits heavily. "I think Gobber feels sorry for me, which is why he even keeps me on, but that's about as far as emotion for me goes. And even then, sympathy isn't something I want." He sighs wearily and stops in front of the next house on the street. "I'll just be a minute."

"Why are you working under Gobber anyway?" I question when Hiccup rejoins me.

The boy turns a little red and looks away before he responds. "I need the money. I need all the money I can get right now, honestly."

"Oh." Being a winter spirit, money has never been a problem for me – I'm immortal, so I technically don't need food or water or anything like that. To me, things like that are luxuries, not necessities. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault," Hiccup replies indifferently, shrugging it off. "Anyway, what does a winter spirit do in his spare time?"

I know the answer to this question very well, because I have so much spare time that it's not even funny. "I start snowball fights, mostly, and help keep them going. I spread winter wherever I go, obviously." Speaking of spreading winter…I scowl up at the wind as it tousles my hair again, urging me to get going.

Hiccup looks surprised. "That's it? Start snowball fights?"

"Well, I mean, I freeze over the lakes, too, to keep the children safe, and I make sure the ice is nice and thick, but— I break off at a confused noise from Hiccup. "Is something wrong?"

"How does freezing over a lake keep children safe?"

"Oh, you know, so when they go skating on it, it's thick and the ice won't crack beneath them."

"Kids go _skating_ on those lakes?"

"All the time!" I tell him, surprised. "Haven't you ever done it before?"

He shakes his head apologetically. "My experiences with winter are limited," he explains. "I've never even been in a snowball fight."

"You haven't?" I come to a complete stop in my tracks, staring at him in shock. "How does one get to be your age and _never_ have had a snowball fight before?"

"It's not that big of a deal," Hiccup looks almost amused by my reaction, though a second before he looked upset. "I mean, all the other kids on Berk have been in one, but they just excluded me from them, so—

"No." I shake my head, setting my weapons carefully down on the ground. "We're rectifying this. Right now."

"Jack," Hiccup is grinning, but he's also shaking his head. "I-I can't. I need to get back to work, Gobber's probably terrified for my sanity right now after what he just saw happening to me in the forge."

I start picking up a small pile of snow from the ground, forming it into a rough sphere before holding it slightly away and preparing to mist it over a bit with my breath.

"If you throw that at me…" Hiccup begins to threaten, walking backwards away from me and tripping over the discarded weapons on the ground, dropping his own. "Ouch!"

"Are you alright?" I abandon the snowball instantly, kneeling down beside the boy and helping him to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine…it's just a shallow graze…" A bit of blood and a torn pants leg shows where Hiccup fell over one of the sharper weapons on the ground. "I'll be fine, I'll put a bandage on it when I get back from delivering these." He gestures to the others and moves to pick them up again.

"I could deliver them, if you like," I offer, one hand still outstretched in case he needs to lean on me. The cut is on his leg, after all, and looks deeper than he seems to think.

"No offense, Jack, but seeing as most people can't see you…" he begins.

"You know what I think?" I ask him, finally tearing my eyes away from the blood and meeting his gaze. "I think we should switch places for the day, so you can go and have your first snowball fight, and I can tell Gobber I think his mustache looks stupid. What do you think?"

For a second, Hiccup stops cold where he stands and then he lets out a quiet snicker that grows into a full-blown laugh. It's nice to see him smiling, because he seems like a person who hasn't smiled in a very long time, but that's what makes the laughter worse: it sounds odd, even though it's genuine. I've only known him for an hour, and I'm already beginning to understand that here is a person who laughs very little.

"I think that Gobber wouldn't appreciate that," he tells me as I gather up the weapons that he tripped over, and we continue on our way.

"Yeah, I know," I sigh, "but it's so wrong to let you go one more day without having ever had a snowball fight."

"Oh, you're still on that?" Hiccup raises an eyebrow. "Honestly, Jack, it's not that big of a deal. I bet loads of kids haven't had one yet."

"Yeah, but…but…" To an immortal teenager like me, who had gotten into so many of these, and seen so many kids have them, most much younger than Hiccup, it's probably the oddest thing I've ever heard of. "But you're like, twelve! You should have had—

"I'm fourteen," he interrupts, scowling.

"No kidding?" My eyebrows fly up. "Really?"

"Yes, really," he responds impatiently, before flinging out an arm to stop me walking past the next house and taking the top sword from my hands. "C'mon, I'll deliver this one…"

Once the rest of the weapons have been delivered, the wind is definitely blowing harder by now, as if it's still trying to coax me away from here. And maybe it would be better to get away – in all my excitement, I've given them a much stronger snowfall than I should have, and Hiccup is shivering horribly.

"I'd better get back," I tell him reluctantly, running a hand through my hair. "But, um…can…can I…maybe come again sometime?"

Hiccup is busy inspecting the dried blood edging the cut he gained earlier, so for a moment, my words don't appear to register. And then he looks up at me, does a double take, his mouth falls completely open and he just gapes at me for ten straight minutes.

"Um…I'll take that as a no?" I persist, my heart sinking. It's just as well – the other spirits can't stand me, and the only human child I know can't stand me, either.

"You…you _want_ to come see me again?"

"Well…" I hesitate for a moment, asking myself this same question. He doesn't seem like a bad person – maybe a little sensitive, trying too hard to be thick-skinned. But he's not that bad. I can't help feeling envy of him, for being human, being touched and seen every day, but he's nice.

So, finally, even though I've waited too long to answer, I give him a nod.

He looks stunned, but manages to blurt, "Of…of course you can come see me again! Any time you want!"

It takes a minute for the full meaning of the words to hit me, but when they do, I break out into a huge smile, to mirror the one Hiccup is wearing.

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, I'm not in my usual position, upon my lake or in a tree branch right above it. I'm on a hard wooden floor, and I don't remember coming to rest within a building. In fact, I hate sleeping inside. It makes me feel like I'm in a cage. So I sit up, rubbing my head a little, because it feels achy and sore, though I can't figure out why. I start to get up to inspect my surroundings, before remembering what happened yesterday. My heartbeat – or metaphorical heartbeat, seeing as I don't have one anymore – quickens when I think of it, smiling hugely to myself.

Somebody can see me. There is a child in this world who can see me, and he wants me to come visit him again! I replay his words from yesterday in my head, over and over so I don't forget them – not that I ever will. _"Of course you can come see me again! Any time you want!" _

My smile widens a bit before fading slightly as I begin to look at the room in which I have found myself. There are drawings of enormous skill papering the walls, some of them crude sketches of weapons or inventions that I can't even begin to understand, others detailed colored portraits of people. I turn slowly on the spot, trying to take all of them in at once, and failing miserably.

After a bit of time, I just start appreciating the skill within the thick black lines of the sketches, before a voice jerks me out of my reverie. "I'VE GOT MY AXE AND I'VE GOT MY MACE AND I LOVE MY WIFE WITH THE UGLY FACE, I'M A VIKING THROUGH AND THROUGHHHHHHH!"

"What the…?!" Startled, I look to my right, where the voice is coming from, and see nothing but a tattered red curtain, fluttering in what appears to be a recent breeze. Tearing out of the room, I instantly go skidding into another, tripping ungracefully over a huge barrel of weapons just outside the curtain. The barrel and I both topple, and I reflect ruefully that I'm a lot clumsier than I remember.

"You knocked over Big Bertha!" A scandalized voice yells in my ear as I lay on the ground.

"Big—what?" Glancing up, I see Gobber, the blacksmith and Hiccup's employer standing next to me, concerned, not with me, but with the barrel. He starts fussing over the weapons like they're small children. "Aww, poor Cindy," he croons, stroking the blade of an axe. "You scuffed her, look!"

"Um…right…" I mutter uncomfortably, trying to pull away from the axe that he is now waving under my nose before suddenly realizing something. "Wait a second, you can see me?"

"Of course I can," he replies, sounding annoyed now. "You're standing there bold as brass, Hiccup! Now get up, and get to work!"

_Hiccup_?

I instinctively glance around for the boy, but he's not there; the only person Gobber could possibly be talking to is me. I rise unsteadily to my feet before catching my reflection in an axe on the wall, glinting in the early morning sun streaming in through the windows. I don't look like myself any longer. My hair has turned auburn, my eyes have gone emerald green. My nose and cheeks are significantly rounder, freckles have cropped up in places that I didn't think one could have freckles in and now that I think about it, I'm a lot shorter than I used to be. I am, without a doubt, the spitting image of the boy I met only yesterday.


End file.
